7.41 (1/2)

Archmage Valeterisa no longer dreamed. She no longer slept. She was beyond all of that.

Or rather, part of her was. She had learned magic. Like those before her, she had delved deeper into the mysteries of spellcraft and magic. Only—in her era, Zelkyr’s creations had sealed the greatest achievements of magedom away. Behind a test that was suicide to attempt.

So few [Mages] knew what magic was. The rest played around at it. Even the most accomplished like Feor were children playing in the sandbox with toys the true [Mages] had left behind.

That was how Valeterisa would have described it, if you forced her to make an analogy for spellcraft in this era. But she had not been content to remain low-leveled, to shy away from what it meant to be a [Mage].

As a girl, she had wanted to be an [Archmage]. She had kept that dream, even as she aged. Now—with her short Human lifespan, she had already reached Feor’s level of spellcraft despite the half-elf being nearly four times her age. She had stolen away from the politicking of Wistram Academy to further pursue her goal.

Valeterisa had achieved one thing. One great technique of old. But—in the way of those who lacked a guide, the knowledge of old—she had dived into the heart of magic. Too far, without anything to pull her back.

She did not dream. She…thought. A part of her thought about thinking. Another was counting, making sure she ate, rested, excreted, kept herself basically clean—the functions of the body. Another was pursuing magic. Yet another monitored the mansion that was her home. Another tried to crack the spell from one angle. Yet another reviewed all the information she had ever learned.

She was—fragmented. Using a Skill she had obtained, and magic to aid it.

[Parallel Thoughts]. A technique great [Mages] had used across the ages. But even one of the former, true Archmages of Wistram—Archmage Chandler—who employed the same Skill for his own ends would never have gone this far.

Az’kerash, the Necromancer, who was still alive even if Valeterisa and the world had no idea—fragmented his mind. He had experience with the technique, and the powers of unlife, his enhanced intellect, and magic to aid in the process.

Even so—he could sustain about fourteen simultaneous thoughts. And that took its own toll, as moments like his encounter with Ryoka Griffin had once demonstrated.

Archmage Valeterisa had over forty selves thinking with her mind. She had forgotten her own name. A singular part of her remembered for her.

Parts, working towards a whole. One kept her alive. One looked for danger. Most pursued magic, cycling between ideas. Trying to crack the grand theory that had consumed her for over ten years. Sometimes they devoted themselves to lesser tasks. But few of her separated selves had time for anything else.

One to eat and rest. Another to watch for danger. Another to just—scream. Be angry. Break things when the stress got too much.

Where was the one who remembered her name? The woman was lost in her head. And there was no self to tell her that.

Her fortress of a home held a Courier. She was aware of this—dimly. But he would die of starvation or madness before she ever roused herself. And two more were coming. Valeterisa sensed it.

How arrogant. The two were coming, like the Mage Runner had, to wake the Archmage of Izril. Ten years she had spent here. Countless people had tried to rouse her, for their own designs or out of concern.

They had failed. Couriers had failed. [Knights] had failed. Adventurers—

They would never make it to her. There were too many traps. And the two young women did not get off to a good start. Statistically…

They were doomed.

—-

Ryoka Griffin stared at the distant mansion and felt her heart pounding in her chest. It…was familiar, and nostalgic at the same time.

She had done this before. Run deliveries like this, that was. She had delivered to the Horns of Hammerad, run the High Passes, and then reached the Necromancer himself.

But that had been then. Ryoka had survived close calls since then, but this was different. This wasn’t just survival. This was putting her life on the line for a delivery. For money. Or in this case—Lady Ieka’s help.

“Is this unhealthy, that I missed this?”

“Probably. I’m shaking.”

Serafierre val Lischelle-Drakle was so nervous she thought she was going to throw up. Or maybe that was the rat’s blood. She felt…powerful. But unlike Ryoka, she hadn’t actually done anything like this before. Ironically, the Vampire girl was the rookie in life-or-death situations.

“Just listen and don’t rush into things and we’ll be fine, Fierre. Actually—we might not be, but don’t panic. You’re a Vampire and I’ve done this before.”

Fierre started and nodded. She bared her teeth.

“Leave it to me! This Archmage might have traps, but I bet she’s not ready for a Vampire. Especially—a real Vampire.”

She opened one hand, and her tendons and fingers locked into claws. Fierre’s eyes were glowing in the twilight. Ryoka eyed her.

Fierre had been cured. What that meant was that she had been cured of whatever Teriarch knew was afflicting her people. Accordingly—her weaknesses had led to some incidents. Garlic, sunlight—Ryoka hadn’t slapped her with a cross, but she was fairly certain Fierre was far more vulnerable to all the traditional weaknesses of her kind.

On the other hand—Fierre was stronger. It hadn’t been instantaneous; she’d gotten better day by day. Today?

“How fast do you think you could move if we run into trouble, Fierre?”

The Vampire girl scratched her head. She looked around. A green rat looked up, saw the glance, and turned to dive into a hole that led into the rat warrens.

Fierre blinked over and grabbed it so fast Ryoka barely saw the speed. The City Runner saw Fierre snatch the rat up, brush dirt off, and bite it. She tossed the rat over her shoulder a moment later. The rat landed among its fellows, who fled the corpse before coming over for the free food.

Kosher rat. Ryoka shuddered as Fierre turned.

“How fast was that?”

The young Human woman stared at Fierre and felt her heart skip a few beats. Not just because of the unnatural sight—but because that was so cool. She hesitated, cast her eyes towards the distant mansion. And then she nodded.

“I…have no idea. Let’s find out.”

The Vampire girl blinked.

“Huh?”

—-

“Okay, this is about a hundred meters! I’ll count as accurately as I can! Go ahead and run when I clap my hands!”

Six minutes later, Fierre was standing away from Ryoka just up the beach. The Vampire girl was scowling. She kicked at a clump of grass.

“This is so…stupid.”

She hadn’t meant it seriously. Ryoka Griffin, on the other hand, had.

“What?”

“I said, this is stupid!”

Fierre shouted back. Ryoka ignored that. She wished she had her iPhone. Or a stopwatch. Well—she’d do her best. She had to approximate a hundred meters anyways.

“Just run when I clap my hands! Okay? Ready—go!”

There was such a thing as doing some actual research, rather than saying ‘wow, you’re fast!’ Ryoka clapped her hands and started counting. Fierre blurred at her.

“One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi—”

Ryoka Griffin got to ‘six’ before Fierre flashed past her. The City Runner stopped. She stared at Fierre.

“What?”

“How’d I do? I think that was fast. That was fast, right?”

The Vampire girl panted. Ryoka looked at her. She had been closing on seven. But that meant Fierre had just beaten the world record by, oh, three seconds.

“That was…fast. The world record is 9.58 seconds, Fierre. You were like—six and a half.”

“What? And I was only three seconds faster?”

The Vampire girl didn’t seem to get what that meant. Ryoka Griffin shook her head.

“Three seconds? Fierre—you’re not an athlete. The man who trains his entire life and runs on an actual track—and is way taller than you—runs three seconds slower.”

“Oh. Well—I’m a Vampire.”

Fierre preened. On the other hand—Ryoka Griffin now knew something. After a bit of calculation, she nodded.

“Interesting. You’re about 40 mph at top speed. Forty miles per hour. So you’re about as fast as a horse’s top speed. Not as fast as a cheetah. Interesting.”

So Fierre still lagged behind Hawk. Ryoka had clocked the Courier’s top speed above hers, even if he couldn’t keep it up. On pavement, not grass and dirt, it might be different. But…Fierre wasn’t almighty.

Just fast. Her twitch-speed was insane. That was probably what gave her the feeling of moving so fast; her reflexes were a lot better than a horse’s.

None of that made Fierre any happier. She actually shoved Ryoka slightly.

“Stop calling me fast as a horse! I’m a Vampire!”

“And that’s amazing. But you’re not invincible, Fierre. Want to test your bench press weight? Damn—this is where Grimalkin’s weight set would have come really in h—hey!”

Fierre picked up Ryoka and tossed her into the surf. The Asian girl went flying. That was scary. On the other hand—she didn’t fly that far.

“I don’t think you’re stronger than Grimalkin! Or even Relc, by much!”

Ryoka shouted back. The Vampire girl threw a sandball at her. It hit Ryoka in the face and the City Runner went underwater as it stunned her.

“Ryoka!”

—-

It turned out Fierre had great aim. And even if she wasn’t as strong as Grimalkin—she was strong enough to knock Ryoka silly with a mudball. Ryoka lay on the sand.

“Sorry! I lost my temper. Shoo, you little pests!”

Fierre kicked a rat trying to eat the City Runner. Dizzily, Ryoka got up.

“I’m going to call that ‘Gold-rank’ strength, reflexes, speed. Maybe a bit below a specialist. Hold on, I swallowed some water. I might throw up.”

Fierre edged back. The Vampire girl could swim just fine, even if she hadn’t practiced it much. She was coordinated, fast, strong—after Ryoka rested on her knees and hands, she looked up.

“If you had Skills, you’d be really invincible. Vampires don’t get Skills, do they?”

“I never leveled. Old Bamer says there were Vampire Lords, royalty who had powers like turning into mists. Even Skills. But those might be relics. Look, I’m really sorry. It’s just—I’ve never felt like this before.”

The girl squatted by Ryoka. The Runner girl nodded.

“I know. I’m really happy, Fierre. But just remember—there are things that can take you apart. I met a man who could have set this entire island aflame. He’d have been able to beat you without even using his best Skill—and he lost to Belavierr.”

Fierre’s eyes widened a touch. But she took the warning about Ser Raim seriously. Ryoka sat up.

She had met a Dragon. And the Necromancer. Both of them could kill Fierre. Maybe she could get stronger. But as it was—she had to be careful of overconfidence. And if there was one thing Ryoka Griffin knew, it was overconfidence. Also—getting your fingers bitten off.

“Okay. Measurements over. Let’s do this.”

“I’m ready to fight.”

“Great. But remember—we’re delivering a message. It’s not going to be easy—even if it looks like we can just knock. I’ve got a [Detect Magic] amulet, here. One of my rings deflects arrows. I’ve got a bunch of potions—my caltrops, sand—”

Ryoka’s items were all geared towards escaping or slowing down whatever she ran into. She’d used her funds to buy a few low-grade items, but she had been nervous about entering a highly-magical zone.

She had two trump cards. One was a bundle of cloth in her bag of holding she’d been waiting to have made. She hoped it wouldn’t break. It might not be good in an enclosed place. The second was…

Erin’s jars of acid. Ryoka had six. She’d asked Erin for some since nothing else on her travels had been as effective. If Ryoka had carried six when she met Venitra—she might never have had the trouble she did.

She had prepared, in short, as much as she could with the time and resources available to her. When Ryoka turned to Fierre—the Vampire girl reached into her bag of holding.

“Ugh. Everything’s covered in…well, my stuff!”

“No time to wash it off. We want to be done before daylight, remember? What’ve you got?”

“Well…ick, ick…blood, healing potions, a backup wand that fires [Steel-Barb Dart]. A dagger, enchanted with a weak piercing enchantment. And…aha!”

The Vampire triumphantly pulled out her best weapon. Ryoka stared at…

“Is that your journal?”

“It’s my notes! See? It contains all my information on Izril!”

Fierre flipped through the magical repository of her knowledge for Ryoka. The City Runner stared at her.

“Where are your weapons?”

“I have my fists! I can probably beat up Madain!”

Ryoka Griffin covered her face. Once again, she ran into Fierre’s sense of superiority. And fair play to her—she could have probably punched out any [Gang Leader] in Reizmelt even pre-panacea. But here?

“Fierre. Have you ever fought a Bone Behemoth?”

The Vampire hesitated.

“Uh—no? Those are huge, aren’t they?”

“Only like, thirty feet tall. My friends conjured a Frostmarrow Behemoth. Fierre, one of them was below Level 30. The other one was just over it, I think.”

“Oh. Well—we’re just going to deliver a message, right?”

Ryoka sighed.

“Stay behind me. Let’s go.”

“Actually, you should stay behind me. Vampire, remember?”

Fierre pushed Ryoka back as the two turned towards the mansion. Ryoka opened her mouth, but didn’t argue.

They should have brought Durene. Or Alevica. Someone with either the ability to rip apart a tree, or the magical prowess. Or even that Vampire Hunter guy. Or Ylawes…Ryoka was suddenly full of regrets.

Then again, how hard could it be to wake an Archmage who had been a recluse for a decade? Ryoka wished she had something to knock on.

“Okay, I’m not detecting anything magic so far…”

She was holding her amulet as she peered at the mansion in the distance. Fierre nodded. She was walking forwards and Ryoka suddenly fixated on something.

The mansion was set in the middle of the rat-infested, grassy isle. But there was a bare patch of land around it.

“Hold up, Fierre—”

“What? You said—”

As the two walked forwards, Ryoka saw the flicker from beneath the soil a second before Fierre walked forwards.

“Fierre! Stop! It’s a hidden sp—”

The Vampire girl exploded as she stepped onto the first magical landmine.

—-

Statistically speaking, poor performance. The two intruders hadn’t even detected the landmines. Well, one had, but that put them well below the bell curve. Larger groups had tried to reach her. Numbers were just a disadvantage. The first one stumbled back as the artillery spell went off. A homing [Spear of Light] aimed right at her, enhanced to nearly triple the destructive yield. She went running, and dodged it. Barely; the explosion knocked her to the ground.

However, a second spell activated on the heels of the first. It should have struck her; the City Runner had been blown off her feet by the first impact. The second spell flashed down towards her as part of the Archmage watched, impartially.

Flicker. The Archmage’s consciousness stopped, tried to track the blur that had intercepted the fallen Runner. Part of her mind took a bit more thought processing.

What had that been? She had been sure—

—-

“Fierre?”

Ryoka Griffin could barely breathe. She was hanging off the shorter Vampire girl’s shoulder. Fierre was sprinting away from the mansion, with Ryoka on her shoulder.

It really hurt. Ryoka was half-blinded from the spell’s impact, anyways. But she had seen her friend die—

“Ow, ow, ow! It hurts so much!”

That wasn’t what most people said with her injuries, though. When the Vampire girl got them out of range and dumped Ryoka on the beach, Ryoka saw—

Fierre’s legs and part of her stomach were torn open. Bone shone around torn flesh. Her blood had stained the grass. But—

The injuries were already healing. With incredible speed, Ryoka saw the wounds closing. Fierre gripped at her arm and Ryoka saw—her arm had been broken by the impact, slightly. Now the bones snapped together.

“That hurts so damn much!”

“Uh…”

Ryoka Griffin stared at Fierre. She should have been paste. A landmine did not let you walk away with those kinds of injuries. Fierre’s skin was tough. Ryoka should have measured that. How hard was it to hammer a stake into her chest?

“Fierre? Are you—”

“No, I’m not! Why didn’t you detect that?”

“I saw it only when we were right on top of it! It must be camouflaged!”

“Your amulet’s a piece of junk! If I find that [Merchant] who sold it to you, I’m going to eat—”

Whumph. Something hit the dirt at the top of the incline. Both young women went running.

“Dead gods, it’s still after us?”

“Run further away!”

—-

Artillery spells. Seriously? Ryoka and Fierre peeked over a sand dune at the very edge of the island, as far away from the mansion as possible.

“Okay. It stopped firing. So we know there’s landmines and a spell that blasts anyone coming towards the mansion to pieces. And we can’t see the Archmage’s magic with our level of spell. Ideas?”

“Give up?”

Fierre looked at Ryoka’s expression. The Vampire girl was trembling, now that they were safe.

“Oh, come on, Ryoka! You were right! I’d be dead if I wasn’t stronger now. And that wasn’t a fun way to find out I can survive a Tier 4 spell. I think that was what it was.”

Ryoka blinked. Instead of comforting platitudes, she focused on Fierre’s face.

“You’re sure Tier 4?”

“Based on the power of the spell? Pretty sure. Tier 5 can vaporize you. Tier 3 is usually weaker and you can’t delay it. Like—[Delayed Fireball] is Tier 4—[Fireball] is Tier 3.”

“Oh.”

The young woman wasn’t sure if Fierre’s abilities to appraise spells was actually that helpful. Either way, she was dead if she stood on that landmine—or crippled at the least. She narrowed her eyes.

“No wonder people can’t get to the front door. Well, I have my trump card. But I don’t know…I could try flying towards the door, but the wind isn’t under my control. I’d probably be hit by a spell or the wind would pulverize me by sending me into the ground or something.”

Fierre blinked.

“What? You’re not giving up, Ryoka?”

The City Runner gave her friend a blank look.

“Of course not. We’re not dead. We should have expected this much, Fierre.”

“But—”

That was the difference between City Runners and normal people. Fierre closed her mouth as she saw Ryoka investigating the distant mansion. They really were insane.

“Hm. The wind is strong around the mansion. Sort of weird.”

Ryoka muttered. She was trying to see if she could sail on the winds with her trump card into the mansion. She might hit it hard, but what if she threw Fierre? Wait, that could work. Throw her into the wall, get her to ring the door—but the door was probably trapped.

Still—something was off. The wind was blowing…Ryoka Griffin closed her eyes.

She could…sense the wind. Not concretely, and even if she asked it to blow hard, it sometimes failed her. She needed a teacher. Teriarch had offered some insights, and Ryoka had learned to call the wind stronger since the fire at Riverfarm. But she seldom tried to use the wind to scout.

Yet—if she wasn’t wrong…

“What is it, Ryoka?”

The City Runner started. She narrowed her eyes at the mansion.

“I think…I think that damn mansion is fake, Fierre. The wind’s blowing straight through where it should be going around the walls.”

“What? Fake?”

Fierre started. She looked at the mansion and groaned.

“Oh, skunk blood. Of course! It’s the oldest trick in the book! Is the Archmage even on this isle?”

Ryoka felt sick. She might not even be here! But first—they had to test this idea. So Ryoka opened her bag of holding.

“Hold on. Let’s just make sure this is actually an illusion. There’s something there—just not the disturbance in the air a mansion could create. That door…might be real. Here—help me set up this. I just need a handkerchief—and a stick or something—”

Fierre offered Ryoka a rat. The green rodent squeaked and tried to get away. Ryoka stared at the rat.

“No. That’s cruel.”

The Vampire girl gave Ryoka a long look. She opened her mouth and Ryoka slapped the rat out of her hand.

“Stop that.”

She was no huge animal advocate, but Ryoka was definitely against cruelty and Fierre eating the rats did bother her. The Vampire girl sulkily got out some vomit-stained blood bags.

“I’m really hungry. Being blown up makes you hungry.”

“I wouldn’t know about that. Here—”

Ryoka finished her creation. It was…a handkerchief tied to a stick with some twine. She tossed it up and Fierre felt the wind blow. She saw the little parachute open and the stick flew off. It flew towards the mansion’s walls in the distance. Even Fierre’s enhanced eyes lost it, but Ryoka grimly nodded.

“It went straight through.”

“Darn. Well—now what?”

Ryoka Griffin thought about this. If they couldn’t see the Archmage’s mansion, was it underground? Accessible only via teleportation? Or…her eyes narrowed. She closed her eyes and felt for the wind.

“Aha.”

—-

Unexpected. The part of the woman’s mind which was tracking the two was infinitesimally small. Basically only there to record and watch for dangers to her person. Even so—the two’s progress had defied the statistical norm.

They had found the invisible mansion without going for the fake one. Now—they stood at the entrance, investigating carefully.

Somehow, they had found it. Though no magical resonance had occurred. A Skill? It was still within parameters.

After nearly twenty minutes of bickering, the two entered the front door. Which was, of course, not trapped. Just reinforced.

—-

The door slammed shut and it was at that moment that Ryoka Griffin knew she’d been duped.

“It’s not designed to keep us out! It’s designed to—”

“Hiyah!”

Fierre punched the door as hard as she could. The impact was thunderous. The door—which had no knob on the inside—remained shut. Fierre shouted in pain.

“Aaah! That hurts so much!”

She’d hit the door hard. But the enchanted wood didn’t budge. Durene with her club? Ryoka shook her head.

“We’re in trouble, Fierre.”

The two spun around. The opening to the mansion, which they’d been investigating through the untrapped door—was a long hallway.

Stone. The invisible mansion had been resting on the cliff’s edge. Ryoka hadn’t seen any of it, just known it was there. The door had appeared and like idiots, they’d gone in.

Now—she saw faint scorch marks, detritus like empty potion bottles or glass—evidence of other people having come through, waited here, and gone on, sometimes clearly having attempted to exit.

“Well, we’re not the only ones who tried this. I doubt we can break out with our bare hands, Fierre.”

“What about your acid?”

“Doesn’t work on non-organic materials. Doubt it’d do anything.”

Just to be sure, Ryoka glanced around the walls, floor, and at the door again. All stone, except for the enchanted door. Actually…it might be stone too, just spelled to look like wood.

“Like a damn dungeon. That’s what this is. An Archmage’s dungeon, only there’s a living person controlling it.”

“Statistically, that’s how most dungeons come to be. Someone makes their own fortress, it gets buried or lost to time and bam, a thousand years later you have adventurers.”

Fierre walked in front of Ryoka down the long hallway. Ryoka sighed. They were doing—okay so far, but this felt like more and more of a mistake. Now she remembered, she had barely survived Az’kerash and the High Passes! What made her think that meant she could just survive this?

There was one door at the far end of the hallway. Ryoka Griffin and Fierre walked towards it warily.

“Okay, this time we’re checking this door. Maybe try to put a wedge in, so we can get out.”

The two young woman clustered around the next door, which was pearly-white and had a little…arch?…carved into the door. Ryoka frowned at it.

“Someone has a sense of gamesmanship. That’s either someone messing with our heads, or it’s telling us what lies beyond.”

“Well, I’ll go first. No arguments.”

“Fierre—I can’t let you risk your life again. Let me—”

The Vampire girl grabbed Ryoka as she reached for the handle. Fierre held Ryoka by the shoulders seriously, looking up at her taller friend, then hugged her tight.

“I’m not losing my first Human friend. If anyone’s going to be in trouble—I have a better chance of surviving. No arguments.”

She turned, and faster than Ryoka, yanked the door open. Fierre looked into the room filled with mirrors, took a deep breath, and stepped through.

“Fierre! Don’t—”

Ryoka moved, but an invisible barrier held her back. The door slammed shut.

—-

The Room of Similarities took out 14.2% of all intruders alone. And those who entered almost never left without serious damage, or needing to use the artifacts they’d brought, or magic or a Skill. Of the intruders, 0.6% had ever left unscathed.

The first of the two walked into the room and Archmage Valeterisa’s watching mind-segment stirred. If it could be said to be interested in the results…it waited as the girl spun around from the closed door and raised her fists.

Both waited.

…Nothing happened. The girl looked around. The Archmage’s mind expected the mirrors to work. But…something was wrong. An invalid template had entered the room. The Archmage tried to make sense of it and another of her parallel processes devoted itself to the puzzle. Of course, she only had magical data. If she could have seen the room, it would have been obvious.

The Vampire had no reflection.

—-

“Fierre! Fierre! F—”

The door opened and Fierre waved at Ryoka from the other side of the room.

“Hey Ryoka, I think the trap’s dead! Nothing happened!”

She had opened the other door, which had released the magical lock on Ryoka’s side. Fierre peered through the other corridor.

“Come on!”

Ryoka spied the mirrors. She guessed what had happened.

“Fierre, it’s the mirrors! You have no reflection!”

The Vampire girl slapped her forehead.

“Duh! Gah! I forget you people get reflected by mirrors!”

Ryoka opened and closed her mouth. Then she saw Fierre whirl.

“Hold on. Something just moved. I—”

She stepped through the door as Ryoka drew breath to tell her to wait. And the door slammed shut.

“Fierre!”

Ryoka Griffin raced forwards, then felt the door slam shut. She was ready, though. She looked at the mirrors, drew a tripvine bag, and threw it.

The magical vines burst in the air as Ryoka was reflected across all the mirrors. Ryoka would have settled for mud, but she hadn’t time to make any with the water and sand in her bag of holding. Whatever was coming out of there—

Ryoka saw herself in the mirrors as she braced, one hand holding a jar of acid, the other in her bag of holding. She saw…nothing.

Just herself. The other Ryokas were tensed, ready to move. Ryoka Griffin stared at the vine-covered mirrors facing her. Four in all. They were all large, segmented, covering a half of the room.

Nothing happened. Then—one of the Ryoka’s straightened. She turned to stare at herself. And then began to walk towards the mirror’s edge.

Ryoka felt the hairs on her neck stand up. She saw another Ryoka stand. And then the other two. They walked towards the edge of the mirror. Pushed out of the glass. Three were blocked by the vines, and began to fight them. But the last exited. She raised her fists, and her face twisted in rage—

—-

The Room of Similarity was her finest work. The mirrors were actually all relic-class artifacts. But she had come up with the concept. Not only did the mirrors reflect the person trapped within, they created doppelgangers with the same spells, Skills—the exact strength of their opponent.

And four? Well, one was bad enough. But four opponents with your Skills and magical abilities and fighting style could overwhelm even experts.

Most people survived, of course. 79.3% progressed onwards, because they had gear, or potions or other items that the mirrors couldn’t reflect. 6.5% turned around and refused to go further until they were forced to continue or captured.

The mirrors weren’t perfect. They just took the base person—the Courier had fought his reflections with spells but triumphed because he had healing and mana potions as well as artifacts.

But the Archmage had data about both intruders. Neither one was magically significant to her [Detect Aura] spells. One was…odd. She had wind-element attributes and the other one was plain invisible. But neither was even close to Gold-rank threat levels. So her thought-processes, all two of them, expected the mirrors to triumph.

After all, even if the opponent could win, the psychological impact of fighting your reflection—even killing one took its toll. Few could just—

The City Runner threw the first jar of acid in her doppelganger’s face. The Archmage’s thought processes halted as the first reflection went down in record time. The City Runner hit the second with a jar of acid—the other two broke free of the vines and charged her.

They were as fast as she was. One kicked the young Human woman in the chest while the second swept her legs and tried to stomp on her face. That was an aggressive combat style. But neither one used Skills, which they should have done. Neither did the young woman.

A third thought process joined the other two. That was so odd. Did she not have Sk—

The young woman raised her hand as one of her clones raised a foot to stomp her face in. The air in the room hurled the doppelganger into a wall and left red paste which faded after a few seconds. The second doppelganger tried to copy the gesture.

Nothing happened. The Archmage’s three thoughts watched the City Runner blow the second one into the wall and then run over and kick the life out of herself. That was…strange.

Just how had she done that? A Skill? But a Skill would be copied…an artifact? But no magic had been…

And meanwhile, the next two traps had failed.

—-

The door swung open and Ryoka Griffin, panting, raised the jar of acid.

She saw Fierre, standing in the hallway, stomping on something which slithered away. A moving…shadow?

“Fierre! Are you alright?”

The Vampire spun. She stared at Ryoka; the City Runner had a growing bruise on her arm from where her clone had punched her.

“Ryoka! What happened?”

“Doppelgangers. They got me. A classic.”

Ryoka felt like it was. Fierre stared at her.

“You beat up yourself?”

“Four of ‘em. They didn’t have my acid jars, thank g—thank goodness.”

Ryoka shook her head. She was still shaken, a bit. But she’d taken care of them fast. It hadn’t been hard. Fierre shuddered at the thought.

“Four of me—how’d you win? I’d be so freaked out at killing myself.”

The young woman shrugged.

“Eh. Low self-esteem. That was actually sort of fun. I always wanted to punch myself in the face. And they couldn’t command the wind.”

“Uh. Okay…”

The Vampire decided she needed to build up Ryoka more often. The City Runner was busy investigating the next hallway.

“What happened here?”

“I was attacked. Little…shadow-things came out of the walls. Tried to grab my bag of holding—well, they got it. But they didn’t get me!”

Fierre made a triumphant fist. She’d lost her bag of holding, but more than one shadow familiar had been destroyed by the angry Vampire. None came to attack Ryoka now. The City Runner nodded.

She was tired. The young woman looked around. This hallway stretched further with no door in sight.

“Looks like we passed the first test. We might be under attack again, so let’s make a plan—we could be in danger so—so—”

She yawned hugely. Fierre stared at Ryoka.

“Ryoka?”

“Sorry. That just took it out of me. I shouldn’t be so—tired—”

Ryoka yawned and realized something was wrong at the same time as Fierre. She grabbed the amulet.

“It’s not—not a spell? Is it…?”

—-

The soporific gas usually kicked in after the shadow familiar attack. The Archmage was satisfied to see it worked. The Runner collapsed as her friend watched. The Archmage waited—the other girl hadn’t taken any precautions against the gas that she could observe. She waited…waited…her three thought processes added a fourth as the Vampire girl looked around and cursed. And when the Runemark Golems came marching towards her, the little girl hit one hard enough to crack the enchanted stone.

—-

“…Ryoka? Ryoka, wake up!”

Ryoka Griffin woke up a bit later with a dry taste in her mouth. She looked up and saw Fierre shaking her.

“Whuh—Fierre? What happened?”

“You’ve been asleep for the last ten minutes! Wake up—I think I gave you the right antidote.”

“Wh—what happened?”

The young woman rubbed at her head. She looked around blearily; the tonic that Fierre had applied was taking off the effects of whatever had put her to sleep, but she was still groggy.

“I think it was the air. Or maybe you got stung? I don’t know.”

“You didn’t fall asleep?”

The City Runner looked at Fierre and then remembered—Fierre could grind up poisonous leaves without gloves on. She did it as one of her side jobs.

The Vampire grinned.

“Nope. Lucky for you I was here—look at this.”

She pointed and Ryoka saw four Golems. Well—the remains of them.

They were like jigsaw puzzles. The Runemark Golems that Fierre identified them as were all made up of parts. An arm, a shoulder blade, a fist—each one enchanted with a glowing, magical rune.

“It’s hard to destroy them. They’re designed to break easier than their actual bindings. So they can come back together. Recyclable foes. I dealt with them.”

Fierre had taken one of Ryoka’s tripvines and used it to web the pieces to prevent them coming together. Ryoka looked at the Vampire.

“And you beat all four?”

“I punched them. I told you it works! But uh—it took a while.”

Fierre rubbed at her cheek. She’d gone several rounds with the Runemark Golems while Ryoka napped; only her Vampiric toughness and endurance had let her win.

“Those boxing punches you taught Alber actually helped. A bit. You shoulda seen it! I gave one a hook, and then I did that counter thing—”

She broke off as Ryoka grabbed her friend and hugged her.

“Thank you. That’s for earlier. Let’s not get separated again, shall we? If we go forwards—we go together.”

“What? But going one at a time works. You’re the weak link here.”

That was true. Ryoka had been saved by Fierre after escaping a trap that had passed the Vampire by. Now though, the City Runner wanted to make up the difference.

“I can at least help our progress here. You take my amulet; you can react faster so you’ll see something if we’re on top of it.”

“Okay. What will you do?”

Ryoka concentrated. She closed her eyes and the dead air in the hallways pushed forwards. She sensed the corridor ahead. The connecting passages, the air coming under a secret hallway, a pit trap—she opened her eyes, inhaled, and pushed.

“Wind fist!”

She punched and the wind blasted down the corridor. It set off one trap door which opened up seamlessly ahead of Fierre. The Vampire girl blinked at Ryoka. The two stood there and Ryoka turned beet red.

“Uh…‘wind fist’?”

“I’m trying to fake a Skill. How does [Wind Fist] sound?”

“Eh, I like [Gale Fist] more.”

“Good point. I was just copying this…guy. Who shouts his own name.”

“Guy? What guy?”

“Er, I met him in Liscor. He’s cool. He’s this Drake [Spearmaster]…”

—-

“…named Relc.”

Four of the Archmage’s processes listened. Now the intruders were in a more open, labyrinthine area, she had periodic spells to listen to them. They moved out of her ‘earshot’ and she noted the fragment of conversation for later automatically, saving the data in her memory, as it were.

Then her process realized she had far, far too much conversation saved and deleted the scrap since the term ‘Relc’ had turned up nothing in her knowledge banks.

Four of her thoughts—a whole 10%—were now devoted to their progress. Even as she was, Valeterisa loved a good statistical anomaly.

And the two young women were that. Not only were they dodging most of the traps with ease, they had a unique skillset that allowed them to navigate the area.

One of them, the tall one who looked Drathian, was clearly using the wind somehow. With a Skill? She had used it to sense the layout of the labyrinth completely. She was headed for the door and avoiding or anticipating most of the traps that had any noticeable tells, like the fake wall with the spider-summoning artifact.

Not that there was any good route that let you avoid traps. Who would do that? The Archmage saw the smaller girl leap at the spiders just in time for the rune spell to activate.

The spell should have locked down her muscles so the [Furry Spiders] summoned by the spell could overwhelm her, but the little girl just ran through it and punched the spiders to death. She ripped off a leg, dodged a leaping spider—

She was as strong and fast as a Gold-rank [Warrior]! Some kind of [Brawler]? She waved at her friend. The City Runner jogged forwards—and fell on her face as the rune trap got her.

Strange. The other girl dragged her friend to safety, killing a shadow familiar that went after the bag of holding. The familiar’s remnants vanished, to be reformed in the binding chamber. The entire dungeon was designed to be reused; no sense in temporary constructs that needed replacing.

The Archmage’s four processes combined were enough to note details about the intruders, like their appearances. And even have a bit of emotion—curiosity. The two had gone through the second layer with ease, navigating all the traps designed to slow them down while the gas worked.

By rights they should have been stripped of their belongings, affected by the gas and proceeding fights, and worn down for the third layer’s trap. They were not, and the Chamber of Insanity, which had gotten the Courier awaited down a door they were reluctant to enter.

The Archmage’s thoughts tracked them. But they did not summon more processes. The two might bypass this room, which would be interesting to see.

Yes…interesting.

But there was still no chance they’d make it to her.

—-

The door was incredibly suspicious to Fierre and Ryoka. But they knew it was a trap; the spiral on the doorway indicated to Ryoka that it might be some mental effect.

“So we should go in together. Or let me. I’m good with mind stuff.”

The City Runner couldn’t tell Fierre about Teriarch’s geas, but the Vampire girl was adamant.

“Vampire. Ryoka, when has being a Vampire not worked for me in this place?”

“…Well, once we get outside, one of us can go sunbathing.”

Fierre shoved Ryoka, but gently.

“No one makes traps for my kind anymore, Ryoka. Look, I’ll go in. We’ll try to block the door, but there’s a stupid barrier spell. I go in, and…well, we’ll see. Okay?”

“…Fine. Just be careful. I can’t use the wind; the doors are airtight. Just go in, and…”

“Okay. Okay. But take one of my healing potions. You’re out. Actually, take two. And…”

Fierre rolled her eyes, but she took two potions and entered the door. It swung shut behind her; Ryoka waited.

And waited.

And…

After four minutes, Ryoka had heard nothing. But after four minutes, the door swung open. Ryoka saw someone standing in the pitch-black room.

“Fierre?”

The Vampire girl was stock-still. Motionless. Ryoka knew something was wrong. Fierre was audible now—mumbling.

“…said you’d come back…Mom, Dad, someone for dinner…can’t drink another drop…”

“Fierre?”

The City Runner hesitated. Fierre was in the center of the room. Something was very wrong. Ryoka knew she should back up. She stepped forwards—

Caught herself.

No. Something was wrong. It was a fool’s idea to go in there. If the room was open—Ryoka summoned the wind.